Waterloo and City

[5th column]

Hi, guys and thank you all for taking the time to stop and comment. Just to say this is one of those moments where Google is throwing up a red herring. The title is just referring to the process of weaving a poem (in a meta sense as it’s woven as we read), from nothing. The tea steams, the butter melts through, the jam waits to be spread, the table cracks. Nothing is impermeable (I need something better than the jam). The act of reading a poem (as opposed to prose), is a creative act as is evident here as various readers have found (literally, via Google), different meanings in the title.

[5th column]

Every now and again you find an old poem that had something you couldn't see but with a little pruning and a change of tense it feels complete.



In the Shade


Flipping
Donaghy and Gilbert,
precision burning
bright against the sun:

Donaghy’s still
bound, but Gilbert, well-thumbed

strains until the spine gives
and he pours out in
to the world

I'd otherwise have missed.

[GreaterMandalaofUselessness]

Hi Neil, I remember this. I like the new close a lot. Do you need the first stanza? I wonder a bit at the abstraction of "precision burning", plus 'flipping' on it's own like that maybe has a suggestion that you're sticking your middle finger up to them, and maybe works against Donaghy being 'still' (nice line-break) in contrast to Gilbert's movement. My Donaghy doesn't get taken down much either. Is that Jack Gilbert? If so, I must check him out.

-Matt

[5th column]

Hey Matt - yes, Jack Gilbert. If you haven’t checked him out you’ve been missing something special.

Happy christmas everyone.